


The Plan

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal Sex, Borderline Personality Disorder, Caretaking, Depression, Dysfunctional Relationships, Internalized Homophobia, Intimacy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Pool Sex, Post-Season/Series 13, Road Trips, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: Mac plans a road trip; they’ve got nothing left to lose.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 9
Kudos: 78





	1. Part I

He sets the plan in motion the week before Halloween.

It’s midnight on October 24th. Dennis is curled up on the bathroom floor wearing only a pair of plaid boxers and thick socks. His fingers tear into his hair so harshly Mac’s not sure how he hasn’t scalped himself. Eyes closed tightly, he rocks back and forth, muttering to everyone and no one. The words are all over the place at best. Mac tries to turn the syllables into phrases, mysteries into solutions, but Dennis is so out of it that Mac just bundles him in a comforter, cushions his head with a pillow, and leaves him alone. He knows his presence won’t make a difference anyway.

After Mac came out to his dad, Dennis has been more distant than ever. It takes a massive amount of effort on Mac’s part to even get him out of bed each day. But Dennis doesn’t want to be touched, much less manhandled, so there’s that. Things are so fucking complicated, and Mac misses his best friend. When Dennis left to go be a dad, by himself in some sort of ‘Dakota,’ he was crushed. And when Dennis came back to Philly, Mac was crushed, ecstatic, thrilled, pissed, too many emotions at once. But Dennis? Dennis is barely hanging on, and it shows.

This year hasn’t been kind to either of them so far. Mac can only hope it’ll get more better from here.

So why not do something exciting? They’ve got nothing to lose.

Mac buys this crazy huge, thick road atlas because using a GPS is for pussies. He wraps it in orange paper and plops a black bow on it for looks before hiding it in the hall close til Halloween. They leave on the 1st. Dennis may find it on his own before that because he’s super smart like that. Dennis is, like, the smartest person Maca knows, and Mac knows, like, 100 people. Mac’s opinion means a lot, holds a lot of weight around here, and he thinks this will work in his favor come Halloween. The plan is a good one, a great one. He just hopes Dennis likes it.

It’s 4:30 on October 28th. Dennis hasn’t gotten out of bed in a day and a half. He came home from the bar and collapsed on his thick memory foam mattress without a word. Mac had to wrestle and then violently threaten him into pajamas. Mac tried hard not to stare at Dennis’ bare legs, his pecks, his chest, his mangled arms and sides, his smooth pale skin, at how super blue his eyes are, even when they’re filled with emptiness. But getting him changed was forever ago. Now, Mac’s waiting around for Dennis to join him in literally any activity. Mac will watch a crime documentary or some cooking show or build a fucking rocket. He doesn’t care.

He just wants Dennis.

So, Mac gently shakes Dennis’ shoulder and pulls back abruptly like his hand’s on fire. Dennis didn’t have a fever a couple hours ago when Mac checked on him, but he does now, and suddenly Mac’s heart fills to the brim with overflowing guilt. He truly thought this was part of a breakdown. Yeah, sure, he took Dennis’ temperature a few times just to be safe, but he wasn’t expecting this. Mac gives Dennis NyQuil and some Tylenol. Mac watches Dennis drift off to sleep easily. Mac stays in his room until Dennis begins to snore.

Dennis isn’t better by Halloween.

Instead, he wheezes when he breathes, and he is so filled with snot that Mac had to leave in the middle of the night to buy more boxes of tissues. His fever steady, the delirium makes it impossible for Dennis to even sit up by himself. Mac thinks about taking him to the ER. They don’t celebrate Halloween. It would be a waste to. Mac’s got this plan, and he wants to share it with Dennis so badly he’s about to explode, but his explosion rate is slowed by Dennis’ endlessly runny nose, hacking coughs, and nonsensical ramblings.

The plan is put on hold.

Mac gets Dennis out of bed on November 2nd in order to unveil the master plan. Dennis is a zombie from the lack of sleep. He doesn’t understand why Mac gives him a massive road atlas. He sets it to the side and wraps himself in the thick blue plaid quilt Mac got him for his birthday. Dennis flips up the hood of the oversized hoodie he stole from Mac’s closet and drifts away, face hidden in the couch cushion before Mac has time to explain the reason behind the atlas. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it and tries not to let it hurt his feelings. Dennis doesn’t feel good. Mac can’t expect him to be ready for a road trip when he’s got a fever, right?

Dennis gets better.

By the 5th, he’s only coughing a little, and he’s using tissues, like, a lot less. They go to work. Dennis sniffles as he tends bar, and Mac eyes him discretely, secretly, from his spot by the front door on this weirdly busy day. He thinks about telling Dennis the plan, but there’s no time, and there are so many fucking customers here, and, Jesus Christ, does Stu have ketchup in his glass eye? Where did they get ketchup? Mac doesn’t know, but he finds Charlie squirting ketchup into his mouth like a Goddamn barbarian in the alley later and wonders if that has something to do with it.

The thing of it is… Dennis is unpredictable. Dennis is volatile. Dennis is sensitive. It doesn’t take much, or anything really, to set him off. Mac wakes up on the morning of the 7th to find Dennis sloshed out of his mind on whiskey, a discarded razor in the bathroom sink, and blood streaked on his roommate’s cheeks. He doesn’t know why Dennis hurts himself. He doesn’t understand how the bad thoughts make him mutilate his beautiful skin. But Mac doesn’t ask because he never asks. He cleans up the mess and bandages Dennis’ arms and just moves past it because he’s always scared of what happens next.

The plan is put on hold.

On November 10th, two and a half weeks after Mac finalizes the plan and nine days after they were supposed to leave, Dennis lays in bed and numbly stares at the wall. Mac shoves food at water at hm, but Dennis doesn’t move, doesn’t even bat an eyelash.

The plan is put on hold.

Mac just wants to do something nice for Dennis, something to cheer him up, something to let him know how much he cares about him. This, whatever it is, only further proves his point. Dennis will never get any help by himself, but maybe Mac can help in his own way. Dennis loves the open road. Dennis loves fresh air, even if he hibernates in staleness for weeks at a time. Dennis loves cigarettes and black coffee and looking up at the stars and long nights that seem endless, but for good reasons instead of shitty reasons. Mac knows this plan is a great one.

He packs two suitcases on the 12th while Dennis sleeps, picking at the gauze on his forearms in his stupor. He tries not to be offended when Dennis opens his eyes and stares at Mac while he neatly folds one of Dennis’ flannels. He doesn’t ask Mac what he’s doing, why he has his suitcase, why his hair products are on top of the dresser instead of in the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything, and Mac wonders if he has to put the plan on hold forever because Dennis just doesn’t care.

But he knows that’s not true. Dennis cares. Dennis cares a lot. Dennis cares too much. But it’s hard to show his care when he’s going through this.

Mac prays for an upswing. A permanent upswing would be awesome, but he’s not gonna hold out for a miracle.

On the morning of the 13th, the plan is in motion. Dennis still hasn’t gotten out of bed, and Mac is ten minutes away from throwing him fully clothed into the shower when Dennis rolls over and squints as Mac grabs an extra jacket from the closet so he doesn’t forget about it later; Dennis gets cold really easily.

“’s goin’ on?” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes like a toddler waking up from a nice, long nap.

Mac smiles brightly. “We’re going on a road trip, dude!”

Dennis’ eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

“Why not?” Mac asks. “Road trips are the best.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dennis mutters.

“C’mon, bro. It’ll be fun!”

“’m goin’ back t’sleep. Have fun on your road trip.”

“We’re going together, dickhead!” Mac exclaims. He opens the blackout curtains, lets the fall sunshine in, and hopes Dennis can be reasonable just this once. “It’s a vacation, not a punishment.”

Dennis glares at him. “I don’t remember being asked if I wanted to go on this ‘vacation.’”

“I gave you an atlas on Halloween, Den.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Not weird. More like fucking awesome,” Mac says. “I’ve already done all the work. You just gotta go along for the ride.”

But Dennis shakes his head and smushes his cheek into the pillow. He does look cozy all curled into his comforter, but this isn’t healthy. This isn’t how someone gets better. He knows. He knows Dennis can’t help the way his brain works, the meltdowns, the rage episodes, the screaming, the self-harming, the insomnia, the depression. He knows this, but he wants Dennis to feel good agan. He wants him to be happy. And if Mac has to plan a good, old fashioned road trip for Dennis to feel more better, then he’ll do it.

So he does, and he did, and now they’re leaving tomorrow morning.

“I dunno…” Dennis says. “It sounds… stressful.”

“I’ll be right there, okay? I’ll handle the stressful parts. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Dennis stares blankly at the wall. “I’m always worried, Mac.”

Mac nods. “I know, Den. But you’re gonna relax and have a great time. Leave everything else to me.”

* * *

“It’s too early,” Dennis mumbles, voice scratchy as he sits rigidly in the passenger seat. “And cold… And don’t wreck my car. We all know you suck ass at driving.”

Mac rolls his eyes. It’s not even 5:00 AM. Dennis cranky. “I know the rules of the road, dude.”

Dennis scoffs. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, tucking his chin to his chest.

“I’m a good driver, Den! Way better than you! Remember that accident you got us into right before Penn?”

(He doesn’t mention the accident the winter of their junior year in high school, when Mac broke his face, and Dennis broke his arm in three places, because he cannot trigger Dennis right now; the only reason he wrecked is because of that bitch librarian Ms. Klinsky anyway.)

Okay, like he said, it’s not even five yet. It really is too early, so Mac is kinda on edge. He wants Dennis to be happy, to have a good time, to make memories with him, but every adventure has to start somewhere. Their ‘somewhere’ in in Dennis’ Range Rover, streetlights bathing the windows with stains of life, going on an epic road trip to have some fun. It’s gonna be amazing. Mac can feel it in his bones, even if his bones are freezing and tired.

Mac puts the Rover in drive. He’s doing the first leg of the journey mostly because of the time. Dennis hasn’t been in great spirits lately and falls asleep pretty much anywhere and everywhere. It’s dark out. These are all recipes for disaster, so it only makes sense that Mac’s driving. He definitely doesn’t need to add another car accident to their list.

Dennis lights a cigarette and cracks the window. Chilly, fall air blows in and shakes the Rover. Mac glances over at Dennis with his heart thumping and worry in his eyes. He clenches the steering wheel. His roommate is dead-eyed and smoking restlessly, as if Mac forced him to be here. Maybe he sorta did, but this is for Dennis’ own good. This is good for him, for them.

Dennis falls asleep with his cheek pressed uncomfortably against the seatbelt, smoldering cigarette dangling from his pink lips. Mac stubs it out in the ashtray, the one he bought specifically for chain-smoking sessions in the Rover during their adventure of a lifetime.

Mac gets onto the highway out of Philly. Out of their hometown, on a search for something greater.

* * *

_**McCandless, Pennsylvania** _

“I’m not really hungry,” Dennis whines as Mac pulls into a diner somewhere outside of Pittsburgh.

“Too bad, Den. I’m starving, and I gotta piss.”

“Piss in here. I wanna go back to sleep.”

“Where exactly would you like me to piss?” Mac asks. “Want me to just whip my dick out right here and piss in your coffee?”

Dennis shrugs. He says nothing else.

It’s 10:17 AM, and Mac and Dennis have consumed 7 cups of coffee and 5 cigarettes, and Mac has a cramp in his right thigh that can only be cured with some chow. But Dennis is still in that insanely exhausted state, somewhere between too restless and too depressed, and Mac can’t stand it. He has a road trip planned, and he isn’t even sure they’ll make it out of Pennsylvania before Dennis melts down altogether.

“C’mon. I’ll get you pancakes.”

Dennis gets out of the Rover. It’s progress.

The diner, that Mac didn’t catch the name of because signs are for wimps, is small and quiet with red booths, a jukebox, and a line of old timey coffee makers. It’s the kind of place he can see Dennis liking because of the warmth, the smells, the peacefulness. Dennis takes his beanie off as he sits down and runs his fingers through his messy hair. It’s a good look for him. Mac almost says so, but Dennis is eying the menu with such curiosity that he says nothing instead.

“Would it be too much if I got pancakes? I wouldn’t eat them all, obviously,” Dennis says, biting his lower lip, his voice soft. “Nah. Never mind.”

Mac looks at him carefully. “Dennis, you look good,” he tells him. “Get the pancakes. I’ll help you eat whatever you don’t finish.”

Dennis hesitantly orders his breakfast and another coffee that he adds French vanilla creamer to, while Mac orders a Denver omelet and a tall glass of orange juice. Dennis plays with the discarded wrapper of Mac’s straw, rolling it in his fingers. They set up goals with condiments and flick around a salt packet until it pops open and spills on Dennis’s jeans. But Dennis doesn’t frown or scowl or curse at Mac for drenching him in sodium. He smiles and brushes it off instead.

Their food comes. Mac digs in. Dennis cuts his pancakes into small pieces and then cuts him again into tinier ones. He stabs at them with a fork, staring uncertainly.

“You’re okay, Den,” Mac reassures. “You look good, remember? Don’t worry.”

Dennis puts the fork down and pushes the plate away. “I think I want wheat toast instead. This is too sweet for me.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, Den.”

He means it. He’ll give Dennis whatever he wants during this road trip. He’ll do anything.

Mac knows this is especially true when Dennis eats both pieces of toast with a light spread of strawberry jelly without a second thought. He even steals a bite of Mac’s omelet and a couple sips or orange juice.

* * *

_**Cleveland, Ohio** _

“It’s a classic! How could you not like it? It’s like…”

“A classic?” Dennis finish with a smirk.

“Screw you, dude. I’m just tryin’ to form my thoughts here. How can you not like A Christmas Story?”

Dennis shrugs as if this doesn’t mean shit, but this does mean shit. A Christmas Story is a rite of passage for the holidays. Christmas is right around the corner. Mac saw it for the first time on their shitty TV smeared with fingerprints and cigarette ashes when he was seven. He and Charlie used to watch it over and over again growing up, even during the summer. Charlie shot his eye out a few times, and Mac got a leg lamp when he was 13 from a dumpster.

It clearly must be a classic.

“It’s the best Christmas movie ever!” Mac exclaims. Tourists, not awesome like them, stare, but let them. He doesn’t care. “You should be impressed by this. Why are you not impressed by this?”

Dennis’ eyebrows furrow. “It’s just a house.”

“It’s not ‘just a house.’ It’s the house from A Christmas Story! Ralphie decoded that secret message right here in this bathroom.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve seen the movie, dipshit.”

Mac rolls his eyes. “You make literally zero sense.”

“At least I make more sense than a grown ass man in love with a shitty 35 year old Christmas movie.”

Mac and Dennis wander through the house – the actual fucking house – from A Christmas Story. So what if Mac steals the leg lamp and tries to hide it in his leather jacket? Dennis covers for him, standing guard in case someone is looking. The lamp bulges uncomfortably, but they’re both so used to scheming and success that they carry on like nothing’s wrong. And so what if Dennis steals the silverware off the table? They can get some serious coin for these things.

And, really, so what if they get kicked out for ‘being disruptive?’

Mac doesn’t care. All he cares about is Dennis’ smile.

(And the leg lamp. Which he’s keeping. No matter what Dennis says.)

* * *

The thing is… The hotel room only has one bed.

Mac asked the chick at the front desk if there was anything else available, even if it’s just two twins, but she flipped the bird, told him to suck her cock, and revealed that there’s a jelly and jam festival in town. There’s no extra beds. Mac can’t do anything other than relay the news to Dennis.

They used to share a bed all the time in high school and when Dennis was at Penn. Mac practically lived in the Reynolds’ mansion, and Dennis’ mattress was just so fucking comfortable. It was big enough that they didn’t touch while they fell slept, but they always woke up tangled in each other. They never said anything about it. And while Dennis was at Penn, Mac would visit, and they would cram together on his twin XL mattress with no choice but to touch.

Of course, it’s happened other times since they moved in together after Dennis graduated, but not that the same frequency as before. Except 2009. They slept together – in the same bed – a lot in 2009. Dennis sleeps in Mac’s bed when Mac hurts himself filming Project Badass videos. Mac sleeps in Dennis’ bed when there’s a spider in his room. Dennis sleeps in Mac’s bed when Mac has a migraine. Mac sleeps in Dennis’ bed when Dennis asks him to on the really bad nights.

“There’s only one bed,” Mac informs as he returns to the Rover. “Want me to keep going?”

Dennis shakes his head. “No. I wanna crash. Plus, you gotta be sick of driving.”

“I don’t mind. Whatever you want, Den.”

“Let’s stay here.”

And so they do.

The room is nice with soft, plushy carpet and a fluffy comforter. There’s a TV and a mini bar, and it smells like cinnamon. It’s a much better room than Mac was expecting. Dennis showers while Mac plops on the bed, clicking on the TV and flipping channels until he settles on wrestling. He’s half asleep by the time the bathroom door opens and steam pours out.

Dennis emerges wearing Mac’s oversized grey hoodie and an old pair of plaid pajama pants. His face is clean and smooth and really nice looking, and Mac suddenly has no idea why the dude ever wears makeup because he’s already so perfect. He’s Dennis’ roommate, so he’s seen him without makeup, with damp hair, drunk, stoned, sick, sleepy, all of that stuff, but the lighting in here must be fucking with his head because Dennis seems so… soft right now.

And ‘soft’ is not usually a word he would use to describe Dennis Reynolds.

Mac stifles his erection and immediately flees to the shower. He warns his dick to stand down once he finishes his business.

He leaves the bathroom and spies Dennis bundled up in bed, already snoring quietly. Mac clicks off the lights and TV and gets under the covers, grinning when he sees Dennis wrapped in the blue quilt Mac bought him. He lets himself drift off, listening to Dennis’ breathing and the hum of his heartbeat in the blissful autumn silence.

Mac wakes up in at midnight to piss and finds their bare feet tangled together, Dennis’ hand clutching Mac’s t-shirt.


	2. Part II

**_Indianapolis, Indiana_ **

They stop at Sun King Brewery around noon because booze.

Booze is always good.

Dennis puts the Rover in parks and gest out, stretching like a cat fresh from a nap. He puts his sunglasses on the dashboard, while Mac tosses his in his seat.

They try Ring of Dingle, a rich and roasty Irish-Style Dry Stout with a clean finish. Then they try Ring of Dingle Coconut, Caramel, and Chocolate Stout, which leaves Dennis gasping and wanting more, even though the ABV is way below what they normally drink; Dennis loves chocolate a lot though. They try Pale Pachanga Lager, which the taste testing dude says is perfect for hot days in the summer sun, and Mac can totally see why.

Dennis laughs when they move onto Wee Mac Scottish Ale. He spends the rest of their visit calling Mac ‘wee,’ and Mac explodes, exclaiming that Dennis is a tiny little bitch that weighs less than a pea, but it quickly blows over once they are nearly kicked out for being ‘disruptive’ again. They try When the Lights Go Out, a porter that tastes like coffee and creamer that almost gives Mac an orgasm. They sample Wee Muckle Scotch. Alrye’d, Alrye’d, Alrye’d. Dominator Doppelbock. The Flannel Mist. Cherry Vanilla Shadow Proof Stout.

Mac gulps down their last sample, Caramel Apple Tripel. He glances over at Dennis, who is chatting with the taste testing guy about ways to order this stuff for Paddy’s. And Dennis is smiling. Actually smiling. It isn’t overwhelmingly cheery, but come on; Dennis smiling is the best thing that’s happened to Mac all week. It makes all of this so worth it.

“I might be a little drunk,” Dennis admits once they leave the safe haven of the brewery. He burps and squints in the sunlight.

Mac nods. “You sneak extras too?”

“Oh yea,” he says. “Let’s go swimming. I’d kill to go swimming.”

“It’s November, dude. Where are we gonna find a pool?”

“Hotel,” Dennis points out. He hops in the driver’s seat and pats the passenger. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

So they head back to the hotel, yet another room with only one bed. Tell the clerk they decided they’re gonna spend another night. The clerk says nothing about two 40 year old men sprinting to the pool in their swimming trunks at two in the afternoon.

It’s weird. They were just at the brewery, like, less than an hour ago, and now they’re back where they started this morning. Mac intended on getting to at least St. Louis today, but life has other plans, and that’s okay. He’ll do anything to keep Dennis happy. Happy is a good look on Dennis. It makes his face no so angry and his forehead smoother. A dickweed dad wearing flip flops and socks accidentally elbowed Dennis in the elevator, and Dennis didn’t even say anything, much less threaten to break all of his fingers.

Mac grins. Dennis pulls his long sleeved shirt over his head. He quickly glances away, cheeks red.

Dennis eases himself in at first, but then he goes underwater. The pool is heated. Mac does a cannonball in the deep end. The water soothes his aching back from a day’s worth of driving. It’s perfect. So perfect. Compared to how the plan started, with Dennis being sick and depressed, this is a total 180. Mac wants to bottle up this moment and stash it away for safekeeping because – and he means nothing – can ruin this.

“The water’s nice,” Mac says. He blushes harder.

Dennis nods. “Sure is, baby boy.”

And that’s how Mac ends up pressed against the wall of the pool, Dennis straddled around him and sucking on his neck. And Mac may be gay, but, last time he checked, Dennis didn’t even want to be touched, much less kissing in some pool in Indiana. Mac shoves him away, heart boiling and skin on fire, but Dennis latches on tighter and kisses Mac wetly, harshly, as he threads his fingers through his hair; Mac’s hard on is instantaneous.

He relaxes against Dennis’ touch, the feather-like feeling of his fingertips ghosting over his skin. Fuuuck him. Goddammit. Dennis knows exactly what he’s doing and where this will end, but, like, that’s what this is about, right?

Dennis just wants to bang and then go back to normal.

Mac pushes him away again. “Quit it, dude,” he hisses.

“Why?” Dennis asks. “You don’t like this?”

“No. That’s not it. But… This is wrong, man. You don’t… like me like this, and I don’t wanna be toyed with.”

Dennis shrugs, like it means nothing, and Mac stares right into his baby blues, and fuck it. It means nothing anyway.

It isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. But fuck it if Mac’s gonna say anything else about it. Being around Dennis is like diving into the ocean, waiting for the oxygen tank to run out and send him sinking to the floor. Dennis sucks on Mac’s tongue, hands grabbing Mac’s hips and grinding them together. Mac moans into Dennis’ mouth, breathes in cinnamon and beer and chlorine.

“Room?” Mac pleads.

Dennis agrees.

They makeout in the elevator and only part their bodies to walk down the hall into their room. Dennis sighs into Mac’s ear, and Mac inhales sharply. Mac flips Dennis beneath him, pinning him against the mattress. Mac licks Dennis’ neck like it’s a popsicle and hides his grin when Dennis shivers.

Mac unearths lube from his suitcase while Dennis huffs impatiently. Mac’s finger inside of Dennis, he makes sure he doesn’t go too deep. When Dennis hums, he takes it as a sign from God and sticks a third finger in, biting his lower lip. Dennis lets out a shaky breath.

He enters Dennis slowly, just to ruffle his feathers a bit. Dennis is fucking impatient, especially when it comes to fucking. He grinds down, pulling Dennis in, glistening in the heat of full penetration, of acceptance, of whatever the hell this is between the two of them. Mac holds Dennis’ skinny ankles and sinks back on his knees, working as fast as possible.

“Fuck,” Dennis pants so quietly Mac barely hears him, but it’s enough.

It’s so much more than enough.

“God, Den, you’re so fucking hot,” he whispers.

This isn’t new.

But fucking Dennis like this is a dream come true. It’s been a long long long time since they fucked.

Dennis shivers and writhes beneath hs touch, and there’s nothing more magical than seeing Dennis – the Dennis Reynolds – shake with such intensity, but in a good way. No, a great way. Because this is fantastic, and Mac still can’t get over it.

“I’m gonna –”

“Do it,” Dennis says gruffly. “Come inside me, baby boy.”

Mac grips Dennis’ bare ass tighter, raking his nails over smooth skin. He almost screams through the orgasm that shoots through his entire body like a bolt of electricity. He comes hard and sweet and deep and fast all at once. They both release the wonderful tension coursing through their veins simultaneously. Mac crumples and leans his head into a pillow. Dennis rolls over, out of breath and lips swollen. He squirms until he’s got Mac’s legs on either side of him, head on Mac’s chest. Mac cards his fingers through Dennis’ damp curls.

They stay there, curled up in the afterglow of their little universe for centuries. Mac wonders what Dennis is thinking about, but then again he doesn’t because he doesn’t want this to end. But Dennis seems almost… soft? Again with the soft thing. But it’s true. He’s calm and quiet and not complaining, which, trust him, is a huge fucking first.

“Wanna shower?” Dennis whispers.

Mac stops breathing for a sec. His eyes widen. “Uh, sure, Den… Like, um, together?”

“Yes, asshole.”

Dennis stands up. He’s a little wobbly, but he holds out his hand anyway. Mac grabs it, hoisting himself to his feet and following Dennis to the bathroom. He watches as Dennis sets the water to the perfect temperature. He climbs in first, followed by Mac. The second Mac slides the door closed, Dennis wraps his arms around Mac’s waist and hides his face in Mac’s neck.

Oh fuck.

What is this?

What the hell is this?

Mac doesn’t question it out loud. It’s not often – like ever, actually – that Dennis wants to touch. He’s normally the exact opposite, even more so after the whole ‘time’s up’ fiasco. Mac rubs Dennis’ back, swaying them gently from side to side. Maybe Dennis just needs some comfort? Or maybe he’s finally lost his Goddamn mind?

Whatever the reason, Mac won’t complain.

This won’t last anyway.

It never lasts.

Mac presses his lips to Dennis’ hair.

Eventually, Mac pulls away from the embrace, but it’s only because the water is getting cold. Dennis smiles, and he looks pretty sleepy, and Mac washes his hair for him, kneading the shampoo in and loving Dennis’ tiny shudders echoing throughout his body. And, Jesus Christ, Dennis returns the favor, lathering Mac’s neck and chest and stomach all the way down until he’s on his knees. Dennis presses his cheek against Mac’s left thigh, but he doesn’t any course of action; he’s still and calm, and it makes Mac’s brain do a loopty-loop.

“Den?” he asks softly. “You okay?”

He feels Dennis nod against his thigh.

Mac’s heart beats wildly inside his chest, and he swears he’s gonna explode. Because this isn’t normal. Fucking used to be normal. Sleeping in the same bed used to be normal. Dennis pretending nothing ever happened and Mac avoiding him the next day used to be normal. But this – whatever this is – isn’t normal.

“I’m fine, baby boy,” Dennis whispers. He stays on his knees for a bit longer, until Mac’s skin starts shriveling, and his legs shake. Mac just cards his fingers through Dennis’ hair. He seems so unnaturally relaxed or something that it’s almost like he’s Jell-O. But the good kind, like blue raspberry and not orange. “Are you okay?”

Mac’s eyebrows furrow.

Dennis never asks Mac if he’s okay. He shows his concern by giving him Tylenol when he’s got a headache or swaddling him in blankets if he’s cold, but he doesn’t, like, ever use words to communicate emotions.

“Yeah, dude. Is something going –”

Dennis stands up. He nods, scrubbing a hand over his mouth like he’s about to say something wrong or hurtful. He looks weird.

“Can… Can we just go to bed?” Dennis asks quietly. “Please?”

“Did I do something wr –”

Dennis cuts him off. “No. Nothing like that, Mac. I’m just really tired.”

Mac frowns as Dennis steps out of the shower, instantly wrapping himself up with two large hotel towels. He used to see this after he and Dennis banged, the whole two towel thing. Mac thought it was pretty strange, but now he thinks it’s sad. He thinks about what that librarian Ms. Klinsky did to Dennis when Dennis was a kid and how Dennis has to walk around with those feelings and images and nightmares haunting him to his core.

Vulnerable.

He’s vulnerable.

Mac wants to talk about this, - them, whatever they are – but Dennis is already bundled in the comforter and blue quilt, eyes closed and curled in on himself. Mac quickly throws on sweats and a sleeveless shirt, knowing boxes or even being bare ass naked for some post-banging cuddling isn’t gonna happen tonight. Dennis is fully clothed anyway. He socked feet graze Mac’s shins, and Mac shivers as he pulls the covers up. He doesn’t get close. He stays firmly on his side of the bed.

“If you ever wanna talk about anything, Den, I’m here for you,” Mac whispers into the mid-November afternoon air.

Dennis shuts his eyes tightly and inhales deeply. He’s shaking as he winds his left arm around Mac’s waist, hiding his face in Mac’s shoulder. Mac holds him with everything he’s got. He doesn’t know what’s happening or why, but Dennis is so soft and vulnerable, and he doesn’t have the heart to squash his dreams, to express his true feelings, to make all of this go away.

For once, Mac’s not gonna pretend this never happened. He’s just gonna hold on to Dennis and see where the day takes them.

* * *

Mac orders room service for dinner, and Dennis refuses to touch it. He won’t even look in Mac’s direction when Mac bites into the juiciest, goodest cheeseburger he’s ever had in his life. He keeps his eyes trained on the TV, curled up on his side beneath the blankets. Mac’s seen this before. He’ll see it again. But it doesn’t make this any easier.

Right now, Mac doesn’t know exactly what Dennis is thinking, but he knows where he’s heading. Spiral. A big one on given how unresponsive and depressed Dennis has been most of the month. Most of the year. Nothing is gonna get any more better unless Mac stops the spiral before it eats Dennis alive. So, Mac ignores the butterflies in his chest, the cravings to know where he and Dennis stand after banging for the first time in years, the nerves that tear him from limb to limb.

He shoves it down with some brown he got from the mini bar. It's good brown.

Mac tugs on his shoes and leather jacket. “I’ll be right back, dude. Need anything while I’m out?”

No answer.

He doesn’t expect one.

“Okay. I’ll be back in like half an hour. Call me if you need something.”

Outside, it’s rainy and cloudy and cold. It doesn’t feel like fall anymore. Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and scowls on the walk to the Rover. Go figure. The weather is known to affect Dennis’ moods. But, deep down, Mac knows the wintry-ness isn’t the reason behind this. Honestly, it’s almost just as likely to be no reason as it is to have a reason. Sometimes, things just are what they are, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

He finds a dude willing to sell him bud. He pays outrageous prices - $70 for an eight. He heads back to the hotel. It downpours and flurries a little bit. The sky opens up and fucking dumps on him because of course it does. Mac wants answers. But he can’t get answers. He can’t have nice weather or a stable Dennis either. Fuck. He was doing so good earlier today.

Dennis doesn’t flinch from where he’s hunched up in a chair by the window when Mac comes in, wrapped in the blue plaid quilt. Mac was gonna take Dennis outside for some fresh air, but not now. He doesn’t need to get sick. Mac rolls up in here. Plugs towels under the door. Jumps on the bed to disable the smoke alarm. He gives the blunt to Dennis and lights it for him. Dennis tokes on it while Mac gets comfortable, sitting in the chair across from him and staring at the storm.

“Sorry,” Dennis whispers after ten minutes of smoking silently. “I’m not trying to ruin our road trip. My head’s kinda… weird right now.”

“Don’t worry about it, Den. I may not know how it feels, but I get it. These things happen.”

Dennis presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, the blunt smoldering just above his right ear. “I just feel… I dunno. Ever since you came out, you’ve been happier. More confident. It pisses me off.”

“How is that fair?” Mac immediately asks, venom hot on his tongue.

And it does no good. Dennis doesn’t implode or explode. What the fuck is going on?

Are they fighting? Because this doesn’t seem like fighting, even though this is pretty close to how their fights usually start.

“It isn’t,” Dennis answers simply. “It isn’t fair. But it just… really irks me, y’know? Like I’m a fucking mess, and you’re not. You’re not a mess anymore, and I dunno if it’s because I left for a year and a half or if it’s because you grew up or what. I don’t know what the reason is.”

Mac nods. “Do you wanna know?”

“Yes,” Dennis says.

Mac taps his fingers against the armrest. “I missed you, like, a ton when you left, dude. I kept thinking about everything we did together, and it hurt. But you left. And you quit answering my texts and phone calls. And then you went off the grid altogether. Your own twin sister couldn’t even get ahold of you. I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if you fucking offed yourself or killed Brian and Mandy and finally dove off the end. I didn’t know. I just had to get used to it. I had to get used to not knowing, to living without you.”

Dennis takes another hit. “It was hard. To talk to you when I was in North Dakota.” He passes the blunt to Mac.

“Why?”

“Because I knew I fucked up. I didn’t belong there, Mac.”

“But why did it make you mad when you came back and found out things had changed? You left, dude. You’re the one who left.”

“Because I didn’t think you’d move on without me.”

Mac’s eyebrows furrow. His pulse thumps in his ears. “I had to move on! It was eating me up inside, Dennis! It isn’t affair to just assume I’d wait for you.”

“Well why not?” Dennis exclaims, jumping out of his chair and pacing around the room. The blunt is gone. Mac clenches his fists. “Why couldn’t things stay the same? Why did you have to screw it up?”

“You’re the one who left!” Mac shouts, slamming his curled fist on the table.

Dennis flinches. Dennis sinks to the floor by the bed. Dennis pulls his knees to his chest. Dennis tugs at his hair. Dennis breathes so loudly. Dennis starts shaking and crying.

And what does Mac do?

He gets up.

He sits on the ground next to him.

He makes sure they aren’t touching whatsoever.

“Why did you have sex with me?” Dennis squeaks out.

The words slice right through Mac’s heart.

“Because I wanted to. Why did you have sex with me?”

Dennis shrugs. His shoulders tremble. He curls in on himself even harder. “I wanted to,” he whispers.

“Yeah right. You only ever want to bang when you get something outta it.”

“Remember 2009?”

Mac blinks. “What about it?”

“I didn’t have sex with you then to get something outta it. Today was like 2009. I didn’t do it because I wanted something from you. I did it because I missed you.”

“I’m right here, Den.”

Dennis sniffles. “But you’re not really though. You… changed a lot when I was gone. I just felt really, um… disconnected?” He inhales sharply. “I needed to feel close to you again.”

“Really?” Mac asks.

“Yes. Sorry. I know that probably doesn’t make it right.”

Mac shakes his head, eyes wide. “Why’re you telling me this?”

He has no idea what’s going on right now. He doesn’t know why Dennis is wearing his emotions on his sleeve. It’s been forever since he’s seen the real, genuine side of Dennis. Believe it or not, the dude’s not always the biggest asshole in the galaxy. This trip has reignited the idea – the concept – that he’s actually fun to talk to and be around. So, yeah, Mac’s confused as shit, but he’s not mad or angry at this conversation or even Dennis for that matter.

But he wants to know why.

“Felt like you needed to hear it.”

“But why, Den?”

“You do a lot for me, Mac,” he says softly. “I know that I wouldn’t be here today without you. You just… get me, y’know? I never have to say anything because you already know.”

“Jesus Christ, man. Where is this coming from?”

“I started seeing a therapist,” Dennis blurts out. “I started seeing a therapist, and she’s all in my head, and I just want everything to stop because so fucking complicated. Can we please stop? I c-cant… I can’t. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Quiet sobs erupt like molten lava from a volcano. Dennis hides his face in his sweatpants. Tears smear the fabric. And Mac doesn’t know what to do. Should he touch him? Should he hold him? Should he just talk but not touch? He doesn’t know what’s real or fake anymore. Did Dennis even mean what he said about not kissing him anymore? Did Dennis mean what he said about touching?

Still, though, Mac doesn’t move or ask anymore questions. He’s trying to be more respectful in that way.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore right now,” he says. “Just try to relax, Den. It’s okay.”

And that’s when Dennis launches himself at Mac, latching his arms around Mac’s neck and crying against his skin. Mac rubs his back, peppering soft kisses in Dennis’ hair.

“You’re not mad at me?” Dennis asks, voice drenched with tears and sadness; it breaks Mac’s heart.

Mac shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you, Den. Shh… It’s okay.”

Tears dream down Mac’s cheeks, too, and take shelter in Dennis’ curls.


End file.
